


That Restless Summer

by Tsukiko_Lily



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games)
Genre: Adoption, Aging, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backrubs, Backstory, Bars and Pubs, Bath Houses, Beaches, Bi-Curiosity, Birthday Party, Bittersweet, Books, Breakfast in Bed, Caretaking, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming of Age, Daydreaming, Depression, Domestic, Dreams, Dress Up, Dresses, Drinking & Talking, Drunkenness, Elves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Fantasizing, Father-Daughter Relationship, Feels, Female Characters, First Crush, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Gen, Growing Up, If you only read one work by me, Illnesses, Insomnia, Intoxication, Jewelry, Kissing, Last Kiss, Libraries, Loneliness, Loss, Lost Love, Love Letters, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Married Couple, Melodrama, Memories, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Military, Mother-Son Relationship, Moving In Together, Multiple Pairings, Nature, Nightmares, Nostalgia, Ocean, Older Characters, Opposites Attract, Parents & Children, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychological Trauma, Puberty, Puppy Love, Rare Pairings, Reading, References to Suicide, Revelations, Romance, Sad, Scars, Self-Destruction, Self-Discovery, Sensuality, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Single Parents, Sleep Deprivation, Step-parents, Step-siblings, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teen Years, Teenagers, Unconventional Families, Very Secret Diary, War, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wedding Night, Weddings, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukiko_Lily/pseuds/Tsukiko_Lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone always said that Cecilia and Nicholas were like brother and sister, but as they got older, they wanted something more... Unfortunately for them, so do Russell and Sabrina. With their parents planning a wedding, can Cecilia and Nicholas learn to love as brother and sister? Will Sabrina finally find a relationship to stand the test of time? And can Russell, haunted by war, ever become truly whole again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preamble: That Heavy Dark Something

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I know that I have not written fic in a long while! But rest assured, I'm still a huge Rune Factory fan! And as such, inspiration always strikes again, which is obvious, because here I am, writing a fic! But this fic was inspired by more than the charming characters and setting of Rune Factory. You see, I first began lurking in fandom… I suppose in 2000 and 2001, when I was 12 and 13. Fanfic culture was somewhat different then. There were more long multi-chapter fics, for one thing. And I do love oneshots, but I also sometimes miss how things were back then. So consider this my love-letter to the sprawling fic I grew up with. It will not be as long as some of the fics I used to read (I have it outlined at seven chapters, not counting the preamble and epilogue), but I'm striving to capture the storytelling and dramatic feel that I loved about so many fics from that era.
> 
> Oh, so you wanted to know about the fic itself? Well. You see, I've always liked Russell and Sabrina as a pairing. I do not know why, but something about them works. Also, many people have complained about Cecilia in RF2, and how she didn't stay with Nicholas. Now, put those two things together, and it starts to make sense, doesn't it! I'm not saying it's the most canonically likely reason, but it's certainly a plausible one, or at least I think so. So, what can you expect from this fic? Lots of very conflicted CeciliaxNicholas, lots of RussellxSabrina as well, drama, sweetness, and TEEN ANGST. To clarify some things: Cecilia and Nicholas are around 13-14 in this fic, and RFF is treated as canon, so some characters HAVE moved away, and I'm interested in writing a bit about that as well.
> 
> Warnings: Russell has been through… Unpleasant things. There IS mention of step-sibling incest, but it is in the context of two characters experiencing puppy love and then finding out that their parents are marrying, so I'm not sure if it counts.
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Rune Factory, though this would be a fun storyline event, wouldn't it? ;)

Preamble: That Heavy Dark Something

All stories begin long before they seem to, and this one is no exception. At very earliest, it can be said to have begun on a battlefield, in dirty tents, in field hospitals. In the beginning, it was the story of a bright, quiet young man and his terrible nightmares, though it soon grew to encompass several others. For our stories are never truly our own, at least not for very long.

~*~*~*~

Within his unit, Russell wasn’t exactly unpopular. Invisible might be a more proper word for it. He had little to say to anyone else, and not much interest in the noisy, somewhat desperately escapist displays of bravado that his peers took part in while not engaged in active combat. In the beginning, they asked him to join in from time to time, but he always responded with a shake of the head, a wistful glance in to the distance, and, in time, he seemed to fade from their consciousness. If asked, and given a gentle prompt, a reminder that such a person existed among them, they could usually correctly identify him, but it didn’t really go further than that. He was known for not saying much, always bringing a book with him to the mess tent, and being, even Russell himself would admit, somewhat sickly and accident prone. His superiors, and a few of the more astute among his ranks, would note that he was an excellent archer and promising strategist.

Not that this mattered all that much to him. From the outset, Russell’s only concern was emerging on the other side, relatively intact if possible. While a few young men had a good laugh over his having fallen face first in to a damp trench, Russell sat up, covered in freezing mud, and tried to daydream about something other than impending death. He thought of a story he’d been reading the night before, about an explorer scrabbling through a deep, winding cave, filled with lava and poison and monsters, all so he could face down the mighty dragon in a gamble for the safety of his village. Russell thought of this young man, clambering around in the dark, his small, flimsy human form squared off against an ancient being of scale and muscle and hot breath. That, he thought, is the kind of warrior I wouldn’t mind being. Fighting of his own free will, with nothing but darkness and monsters to contend with. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t exactly what most people would call courageous or physically blessed, It would be easy, he assumed, because it wasn’t this. No crouching in the mud, no arrows constantly whizzing past his head, no dark, smelly field hospitals, no sitting around with his rain-soaked clothes and hair clinging to his frozen body. And he wasn’t sure, but he felt he had reason to believe that it wouldn’t come with this terrible, terrible sadness.

As much as he tried to let things drift by, tried to treat what his life had become as some sort of far-away, passing dream, Russell was, indeed, terribly sad. He tried to hold it back, tried to scrape it back down in to what he imagined as a dark, decayed hole in the center of his being, but he soon found that this wasn’t always possible. There was undeniably something new inside of him, something aching and dark. He didn’t feel it all the time, but it always made itself known some way or another, often at night. He’d lie in his tent, on the hard ground, and suddenly feel the weight of this thing, whatever it was. It was terribly heavy, and now and then, he’d spend whole days trying to break free of it, keep it from dragging him down, a task he would soon find futile. All he could do was make sure it stayed as small as possible, coexist with it, and, above all else, ignore it, which proved a problem in itself. All of this denial made him feel hollow, like there was a yawning pit in the center of his chest. In which, coincidentally, the aching, heavy darkness fit perfectly. Corroding the edges, widening the hollow. By then, he’d given up. He barely felt like a real person anymore, which was just fine by him, because the things he was living and doing weren’t fit for real people. Finally, he was able to drift through, like nothing could hurt him. Then the dreams started.

They were easy to shake off at first. After all, a few bad dreams were just part of life, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have real problems. But before long, they took over everything, to the point where he had to start making critical decisions. Would trying to function be harder on no sleep, or after the terrible nightly onslaught? This, of course, meant nothing in the end, because before long, Russell was terrified of sleeping. And fighting, and talking, and the opposition, and the rest of his unit, and nearly everything else. Maybe the real fear, the dark, tangled roots of countless others, was that the empty darkness inside of him would soon take over, completely and forever. This had occurred to him, of course, but he didn’t think much of it. He was just biding his time, patiently waiting for whatever was going to happen to him to happen, so he could finally hurry up and die and be done with all of this. Bleeding and killing and hiding and waking up terrified if he even slept at all and reading the same paragraph over and over again. Russell had finally lost the thing most dear to him: his ability to lose himself in books. Stories didn’t grab him, facts didn’t take, words became meaningless scratches. His late-night hobby of cataloging feathers and plants from the different camps had long fallen by the wayside. This, he figured, was the end. All he had left to do was wait for the day that he’d make a careless mistake, or give out from exhaustion, or finally take matters in to his own hands and overdose on something or other.

And he realized that, suddenly, people were starting to take notice of him again. But this time, it wasn’t for his inordinate bookishness, his trudging off to the medic again, his few areas of improbable skill. Now it was the screams in the night, the strange lack of focus, the endless dark nothing behind the eyes, the silence and the lashing out. Russell, everyone had sadly and correctly figured, was probably losing his mind, and something would surely be done about it before long. Several of them were already long-gone, declared unfit for combat and sent out in to the world, broken and unsteady. Russell was, they assumed, just the next in line. Russell himself had no assumptions either way about this, being set on dying one way or another, but that didn’t change the course of things: having seen it a number of times before, the lost boys of the unit were correct. Russell himself was not told about this. Rather, he had to overhear it.

“Just finish his treatment, get him back on his feet, and send him off. The kid’s done.”  
“Right. I was just going to say the same thing.”  
“It’s a shame, really. He has a good head on his shoulders, and a hell of an aim. But you know how it is. Some of them just go crazy after a while.”  
Russell took note of the fact that the medic and the squad leader were talking like he wasn’t there. In a sense, he wasn’t. He’d been having a particularly bad week. Almost no sleep, a tiny flutter of a nightmare every time he kept his eyes closed for longer than a blink, a few too-close calls. He was no longer sure whether he was drifting in and out of reality or intentionally leaving himself open to attack. In truth, both were likely at play. Increasingly, Russell found himself slipping backward in to warm, sun-drenched memories, so deep yet so airy and unreal that he questioned whether or not they could have happened. Had the sun shining through the leaves of the trees in his hometown really created such a deep green glow as he ran down a sun-dappled path and in to the forest. Did the gold embossing on the books on the shelves of his father’s study, and the gold rims of his father’s glasses, really catch and reflect the yellow sun so richly? Could those mornings and sunsets really have been so hazy and mystical and green and gold? Could so many flowers really bloom at once? Were the wooden floors of the library so lustrous? Was water ever that shining, cool stuff of his memories? Could he ever really have felt so wistful and excited and fascinated and utterly safe?

Whether it was ever real or not, he welcomed the fantasy, only surfacing occasionally to check if he was finally dead. And each time, he found himself back in the cold, grimy, bloody, eternally sleepless present, the terrible world he found himself in between basking in his sunny half-familiar fantasies and, he hoped, being pulled down by the current of an aqueous, cool, restful darkness. And eventually, he was sure he felt that darkness claiming him at last, finally able to lie down, finally finished. He saw stars, and then darkness at the edges of his vision, felt his legs buckle. Someone was running towards him and shouting something, possibly his name, but he couldn’t hear so well anymore. His ears were ringing, and he was thinking about the shining golden study and the shining golden paths and the freezing slippery trenches. The voice echoed through his head, and the wet ground was so cold under his cheek. And then all was dark. Finally.

~*~*~*~

Russell was almost disappointed to find that it was not quite so final after all. He woke only a few hours later on a scratchy infirmary mattress. His head felt hollow yet somehow heavy, and breathing was harder than he remembered it being. A medic soon realized that he was awake, and came to stand over his bed.  
“How are you feeling?”  
He certainly wasn’t well, but he didn’t really remember how he was supposed to feel anymore, so he couldn’t think of anything to say. He figured it wasn’t important, because the medic moved ahead in the conversation regardless.  
“…Well. Whether you feel it or not, you’re not doing so well. Looks like you have a chest infection. We’ll do what we can to clean out your lungs and hope for the best.”  
Russell nodded slightly, and turned to face the wall. He didn’t really care about where he was or what was wrong or what they were doing to fix it. He didn’t really care about anything, besides getting back to sleep, and possibly the idea that lying on a cot and feeling feverish and short of breath for however long would at least keep him out of the action for a while. Or, of course, the dying and all that. Maybe this was the something that he had been waiting on.

So when he overheard that he might get to escape after all, Russell wasn’t quite sure how to react. For too long, he’d only known of two possible futures: fighting and running and empty inside, or nothing at all; dead. Learning that he might be returned to normal life only served to remind him that he no longer knew how to be a person as such. Indeed, he found that where there had once been the various constituents of who he was, -his curiosity, his preference for quiet, his occasional but deliciously sharp pangs of loneliness- he now found little to speak of. A blank hollow, utterly still but for cold, heavy breaths of despair. As his body began to mend, the idea of discharge seemed ever more real, and Russell began to wonder what in the world he would do with himself now. Surely, he couldn’t really return, could he? Could someone so hollow and, at times, so unpredictable, so fearful, really return to peaceful civilian life? Could his inner life ever pick up where it had left off? He supposed these thoughts should give him hope, that he should be grateful for being handed the release he had longed for without the finality of death. Instead, he found himself, as always, terribly frightened of whatever would come next.

Eventually, he recovered enough to start taking short walks around the encampment. Or at least by his own measure. Russell knew well that he was supposed to spend a least a few more days resting, but the two weeks of bed rest had left him with an insatiable hunger for life and movement. So, after everyone else was asleep, he’d quietly slip out of bed and spend an hour or two shuffling around, pacing at the boundaries of the camp, in circles that seemed to widen every night. It occurred to him that he might be making himself a target, but by the time he realized this, it was already something he needed, a nightly ritual as natural as breathing. He tried to focus on the cold wind on his face, on the damp, heavy smell of the earth under his feet, but something, of course, was always off. The scent was corrupted by distant blood and smoke and gunpowder, a scent of terrible familiarity. My god, what have I done? This was a question he had asked himself all too many times, but it had never quite broken through to the center like this. Because it really was a terrible smell, a smell of countless lives ending, a smell he had, to his horror, learned to produce all too carelessly. That was when he finally decided that he really had gone too far. He knew the terrible truth, that killing was easy and dying was easier and that being dead might not be as awful as everyone seemed to think. He decided that he could never go back. Not to his old world… And not to the war.

It occurred to him that just turning around and walking away might not have been the best choice. He still had a cough, still got tired easily, but it didn’t seem to be setting him back, and he didn’t feel signs of relapse. So he decided to press on, out in to the darkness, towards the light on the rim of the sky and a terribly uncertain future. In a way, Russell liked not knowing what was going to happen to him. For the first time in over a year, he felt the familiar stirrings of his old curiosity. Maybe he could remake himself after all. Whoever he was to become now would, he was sure, be in many ways an entirely new creature, but he was sure for the first time that the new would be built on the bones of the old. Whoever that might have been.

As the sun crept up, above the hills and under a thick pall of clouds, Russell came upon a small village, its crumbling stone walls and charred straw roofs dark and forbidding against the lightening grey of the sky. As the shadows faded, Russell finally found the source of the terrible smell. Bodies, at least a dozen of them. Some run through with arrows, some with great stains of dried blood surrounding vicious stab wounds, some dry and blackened, too slow to flee their burning homes. Russell remembered drawing back on bowstrings, brandishing swords, setting fires. In the heat of battle, it had seemed like survival, or, heaven forbid, a job. But here and now, so still in the morning light, he saw it for what it really was. These were people, and something horrible had been done to them. In that instant, eyes glassy, heart racing, he knew where the terrible black hollowness in his chest had come from. This, he thought, is the very meaning of cruelty. To kill, and to be forced to kill against one’s own better judgment. Russell found himself unable to move, and stood, perfectly still, in one spot, for several minutes, until he was stunned by a small sound.

At first, he assumed it was a bird, and honestly, that alone would have been enough to shake him out of his moribund, empty little reverie. Russell was aching to see something alive, and, in absence of a human companion, a bird would certainly do. But this, he realized, couldn’t be the call of a bird. It was the call of something small, frightened, and human. Or something like it. Because when he finally managed to locate the sound, he saw that it came from a small child, with pale orange hair and pointed ears, screaming her heart out in a dark alley.  
“Hey! Um… Little kid… There…”  
She stopped in her tracks and fell silent in an instant, looking back at Russell with a look of utter terror. He realize that his uniform and raised voice must have frightened her.  
“Hey… I’m not going to hurt you… C’mere…”  
The small girl looked down at her feet, and then warily toddled over to him. Russell smiled, bent down, and lifted her over his right shoulder.  
“There. See? All safe now. What’s your name?’  
As soon as the question left his lips, he wondered if there had been any point in asking. Russell was somewhat inexperienced with children, and wasn’t sure whether or not this one was old enough to speak. Apparently she was, barely, because after a brief pause, she replied.  
“Ce… Cilia. Ceci!”  
“Alright, Ceci. Do you want to come with me? It’s dangerous for you here…”  
He felt her arms gently tighten around his neck, and, with a slight smile, began the walk out of the village, glad for whatever distraction and companionship traveling with a child could offer. But, as he walked past the house, he saw something that made his blood run cold: The charred body of a woman, with singed locks of pale orange hair. Wincing, he cradled the child’s head, guiding it in to the collar of his coat.  
“Ceci… Don’t look. It’s okay.”  
He had never felt like such a liar.

~*~*~*~

When Russell finally reached civilization, he had little choice but to fall in to the uncomfortable position of a beggar. He was surprised, and a little sad, to find that it fit him rather well. With his bony frame, matted hair, cracked and scuffed glasses, constant wet cough, and a child always squirming in his lap, he certainly looked the part. Most of his money went to food for Cecilia, and, if he was lucky, himself, but he was saving some of it, with plans to buy a ticket and ride a boat across the water, where he had heard that there were larger towns with more opportunities. He wasn’t sure she really understood, but he liked telling his young charge about his plans.  
“…And when we have enough money, we’ll get on a big ship, and we’ll float across the water, Ceci.”  
He leaned further back in to the straw. A kindly farmer had allowed them to sleep in his barn that night. Ceci, as she had taken to doing, buried her face in to the warmth under Russell’s coat.  
“…And you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to get a home of our own! And it’s peaceful over there, Ceci. No more wars for us!”  
He hoped in his heart that this was true, and, with that, turned on his side to sleep, and let out a weary cough. He hadn’t been feeling well that day, and thought to himself, so much for not relapsing, before falling in to a black-velvet sleep, spangled with eerie fever dreams.

Finally, the day came when Russell sat counting his coins, and found that he finally had enough to depart. He could barely contain his excitement. He shook the bag of coins in front of Ceci’s face.  
“Jingle, jingle, Ceci! We can take the boat now!”  
Still beaming, he stood up, coughed, gathered Cecilia in to his arms, and headed to the dock.

Russell hadn’t been on a boat before, and was surprised by how he felt the motion of the water in his body. He hadn’t been feeling particularly good before he boarded, and the rocking of the vessel had only made him worse. He felt dizzy and confused. Cecilia, on the other hand, seemed to take to it well, constantly standing on tip-toe on the hard cot, trying to peep out of the porthole, showing the sort of curious spirit that Russell admired. He decided to oblige her, in part because some air might do him good.  
“It’s kind of cramped in here, right? Let’s go out on the deck.”  
The cool salt air felt wonderful on his burning face, but it didn’t do much for the uncomfortable listing of his body. What’s more, Cecilia seemed somewhat frightened of the dark water, now that she could see that it surrounded them on all sides.  
“It’s okay, Ceci. Look, the water’s pretty, and I won’t let you fall in, and… Please don’t cry.”  
Her fussing and squalling was making his head ache, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down.  
“Hey, are you alright?”  
Russell opened his eyes, turned away from the water. Someone was talking to him.  
“Yeah. I’m fine… I’ve just been a little sick lately.”  
“You do know this ship has a doctor, right?”  
“I… No I didn’t. Thanks.”  
“More than welcome. I’ll walk you down the sick bay.”  
Russell nodded, and followed the stranger back in to the cabin.

The doctor was a severe but soft-spoken woman who wore a blue stone on a long golden chain around her neck. The stone fascinated Cecilia, who kept trying to grab it, hoping to get a good look. Russell was somewhat worried that she was annoying the doctor, who might end up getting frustrated and refusing to see him.  
“Ceci, don’t… I don’t feel good and this nice lady is trying to find out what’s wrong and fix it.”  
The doctor actually seemed somewhat amused by this stone-grabbing business, and it didn’t seem to be getting in the way as she examined the back of Russell’s throat before moving on to intently listening to his lungs.  
“It’s really alright. Curious little thing, isn’t she? Are you her father?”  
Russell had to think about this for a moment. It occurred to him that, indeed, he was.  
“Yes.”  
“Well, then. Take good care of her, now. Anyway, back to business… Seems like you have an infection. We have some medicine to clear it up, so it looks like you’ll be just fine.”  
Russell was stunned by her confidence. Back at the field hospital, they had basically said that they’d try, but there wasn’t much to be done. For the first time, he felt like he really was headed for a better life.  
“I’ll… Really be alright?”  
“I assume so… Just get some rest. And when you wake up, let me know if you want a book or something to pass the time.”  
Russell remembered that he always wanted a book. He hadn’t been so happy since before he went off to war, and fell asleep with a smile.

Russell spent most of the voyage in the sick bay, and most of the time he spent in the sick bay, he spent with a book. He read histories, he read stories, he read tomes on the magics and sciences, he read fairy tales to Ceci, who looked up intently from the floor by the bed. Eventually, the doctor ran out of books to give him, and several passengers, having gotten word of the young man in the sick bay who read constantly, lent their own books to him. Russell had almost forgotten how deeply satisfying reading had been for him. When Cecilia felt like she wasn’t getting enough attention, she’d grab the spine of her new father’s book and pull down on it, looking him square in the face. Russell found this new habit endearing, even if it did take him out of his book for a few moments.  
“Ceci, your daddy loves reading, doesn’t he? He always has, ever since he was almost as little as you. But when he was in the war, he hardly got to read any books at all. Hard times, eh, Ceci?”  
Cecilia thought about this, but didn’t yet have the words for a proper reply.  
“…Book!”  
“Yes! And it’s a good book! We’re going to have to thank the nice lady who let me borrow it. And you know what I want to do when we find a place to live? I want to turn it in to a library. That way, I’ll always have lots of books around, and other people who love books can borrow them, kind of like what I’ve been doing now.”  
That, of course, being Russell’s favorite daydream of the moment.

After several days of this, rest and books and taking his medicine, Russell was given a clean bill of health, and was glad to be able to wander the deck as he pleased, enjoying the crisp sea air. On the final day, he stood near the bow of the ship, leaning on the railing and watching the strip of green on the horizon growing ever larger. He was excited, but he couldn’t say for what, not being sure of what would be waiting for him on the shore. He noticed a woman who was also intently watching the green, growing ribbon, and decided to try asking her.  
“Um… Hello there. Do you know what it’s like where we’re going?”  
The woman thought for a moment.  
“If you mean the port town… Well, there really isn’t much. But Kardia is just a few miles down the path, and I think I’ve heard that they have an inn and a few vacant buildings, if you’re asking about places to live.”  
“I guess I was. That helps a lot, thank… Ceci, looking at the water is fine, but you look like you’re going to fall in and daddy doesn’t want to have to jump in after you!”  
The woman laughed.  
“She’s yours, eh?”  
“Yes.”  
Cecilia looked back at Russell, who smiled at him. The woman couldn’t help but be charmed by this sweet, if slightly mismatched pair.  
“I was wondering! I mean, I didn’t know why else you’d be traveling together, it’s just that… Well… You don’t really, you know… Look alike…”  
The woman lightly flicked the rim of her ear. Russell sometimes forgot about the obvious difference between himself and Cecilia, whose sunset-orange hair was pulled behind her pointed ears.  
“Ah, yes... She’s adopted.”  
“Well, good for you, then! She’s lovely. You two have a good day now!”  
“I think we will.”  
He gave a nod, and the woman vanished in to the cabin. Alone with his daughter again, Russell turned back towards the water, eyes on the green patch of land once more, the warming sun and cooling sea spray on his face. Onward, to the bright future that lay before him.


	2. Chapter 1: First Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over a decade after Russell's difficult times in the war, Cecilia is fourteen years old and quietly in love with her best childhood friend. But first loves are rarely simple...

Cecilia had been a happy child. And though she now would not consider herself a child, and, indeed, somewhat resented the fact that some others still seemed to, she supposed she was still happy, for the most part. Sure, she found that, in the last two-odd years, she had grown a little lonesome, a little unsure, but she couldn’t really call that unhappiness, could she? She didn’t really think she could, though it did bother her on occasion. Once, about a year ago, she asked her father if he ever felt like he didn’t really fit in. She remembered how he sighed deeply, looked up from his book for a moment. That’s just part of growing up, Ceci. Having received that answer, Cecilia wished she’d had the good sense to keep her feelings to herself. Later that evening, sitting on her bed, she wondered why it had made her so angry at him. She knew her father meant well, but something about it made her feel like he hadn’t heard her at all.

It was not she reasoned, rather haughtily, just part of growing up! It was that everyone was leaving. Mist was the first to go, then Rosetta from the general store, and then Bianca, taking Tabatha with her. That was it. Tabatha was gone, and now Cecilia was the only one of her kind in this entire sad little town! Ever since she learned the truth behind her funny ears, her urge for wild places, her thinking somewhat differently from everyone else, being close to Tabatha had become terribly important to her. Two elves in the town were special, were different, were in it together. One elf in the town, she figured, was just alone. Her father just didn’t know what he was talking about, she assumed. He was a human, who had grown up with humans, and now lived in a town full of humans. Humans, humans, humans. So he didn’t have any right to tell her why she felt the way she did. In truth, of course, Russell knew all about feeling like he didn’t belong. He was a bookish man in a farming community, a man who had did terrible things living side-by-side with his mostly peaceful neighbors in this gentle town. For him, growing up wasn’t the half of it. Indeed, he identified strongly with his pointy-eared misfit daughter, who might never really feel like she belonged here. He often didn’t feel like he did, at any rate. But he had wanted to give her some hope.

Fortunately, Cecilia was a busy girl by nature, so she didn’t often have time to sit around feeling sorry for herself. How terribly, terribly boring! Why just sit around wallowing when you could go in to a cave and collect stones. Cecilia had loved stones since she was small, and had amassed a rather impressive collection of sparkling blue aquamarines. She wanted to make some of them in to a necklace, and was, at the moment, seated on the porch of the library, skirt pulled tight across her knees, serving as a makeshift table on which to line up the sparkling blue jewels in to rows, trying to find the most pleasing arrangement, and wondering how she would make the holes to string them. Perhaps Leo, the old blacksmith, had some sort of tool. She would have to ask him sometime. Satisfied with her new plan, Cecilia gathered the jewels in to her hand, and was about to put them back in her pocket, when something startled her.  
“Hey!”  
Cecilia jumped, scattering her handful of gems on the cobblestones. It was only Nicholas, who bent down to pick up a few of the strewn treasures. Cecilia knelt next to him, and the pair worked at gathering them up.  
“…You scared me!”  
“Sorry… I just didn’t know you were so hard at work!”  
Cecilia collected herself, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her hair back in to place.  
“I wasn’t really working… I was just trying to figure out how to make a necklace…”  
Though his sudden appearance had startled her, Cecilia was always happy to see Nicholas, and this was no exception. The two of them had been inseparable for as long as they could remember, and Cecilia liked to think that, even if there had been a hundred other children in town to choose from, the two of them still would have become best friends. Nicholas was mischievous, which, to Cecilia, meant that he always wanted to do something interesting. She supposed that she might be just a bit mischievous herself. Her father often seemed to think so, at least. And not only was he fun, but he was also growing in to quite a beautiful young man. In Cecilia‘s opinion, at least. Over the last year or so, he had grown suddenly tall, and seemed to be experimenting with letting his wavy, blue-black hair grow a little longer. The sun had, over the years, darkened his skin to a warm, powdery tan color, much like his mother’s. His deep, lively eyes were a rich brown, shot through with sparks of gold and amber. Cecilia entertained the notion that, aside from the ears, he might look just a little bit elven. To her, he even looked lovely when he was streaked with dirt and had leaves tangled in his hair, as often happened on their adventures together.  
“There! All of your stones are together again!”  
Nicholas placed the jewels he had gathered in to Cecilia’s cupped palms, where they clattered against the few that she had picked up herself. She wordlessly slipped them in to her pocket, then spoke.  
“So, what do you want to do today?”  
“I don’t know, walk around?”  
“Walk around where?”  
“I dunno.”  
Cecilia was starting to get frustrated. Though Nicholas was very dear to her, some aspects of his personality had begun to get on her nerves in the past year. He was unfocused, and he couldn’t seem to take anything seriously. Cecilia was still sprightly, and, indeed, mischievous, but as she got older, being serious had started to hold an appeal for her. Tabatha, and, when she thought about it, most of the adult women she found most beautiful and most longed to be like, always had a seriousness about them. But seriousness didn’t really come naturally to her yet. Just the day before, she had been fooling around with Nicholas and leapt on to him from the branches of a tall tree, pretending to be a dragon. She opted to rationalize this foolishness by reminding herself that dragons were very regal, very serious creatures.  
“Well, what sounds like fun to you? Um… Cave or Mansion?”  
The de Sainte-Coquille mansion had stood abandoned for years, and shortly after Jasper moved out, Cecilia was delighted to find that the windows weren’t locked. She loved the mansion, loved pretending that her and Nicholas had a home of their own. In a way, she supposed they did. And recently, she had begun to love going there by herself, loved the echoes, loved the emptiness, the silence. She was happy that she always had a place to go when she found her father’s fumbling good-naturedness overbearing and needed to be alone for a while. And of course, going with Nicholas was fun, too. They could run down the carpeted hallways, bounce their voices off the vaulted ceilings, slide down the banisters. All very undignified and childish. Admittedly, that was part of the fun. Even though she now supposed that she was very nearly grown-up, Cecilia didn’t really mind being a child. It was a very safe time. Nicholas was still thinking, but before long, he made his decision.  
“Uh… Mansion!”  
Cecilia had been hoping he would say that. Nicholas grabbed her hand, pulling her from the porch. The pair set off, down the street and up the steps.

~*~*~*~

Russell and Sabrina were very different from one another. They were both aware of this, and they liked thinking that this was why they seemed to suit each other so well. And they found that they ended up being somewhat alike, after all. Sabrina could be introspective, Russell could be easygoing and spontaneous. They had originally gotten to know one another because Russell had needed a bit of assistance after moving to Kardia, but they soon found that they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. For one thing, they made lovely drinking buddies. They had grown to love going to the pub together, leaning forward on the bar, laughing the kind of laugh known only by adults, a riotous, wanton sort of laugh, the laugh of people who felt as though they were on the lam from their oppressive day-to-day lives. Russell would drink very quickly, eager for warmth and calm, for perhaps and hour of uncomplicated happiness. Sabrina found this entertaining, and would cheer him on, that’s my little two-fister; ooh, is that a new record; wow, for a bookworm, you can really throw down. Russell would gulp more quickly, eager to show off; Sabrina would clap and, quietly, in the back of her mind, wonder if this was something she should be encouraging. But it was all, they figured, in good fun. And in time, Russell allowed her to see the sides of himself that he normally kept hidden. Sabrina got the impression that, on the inside, Russell was nothing more than a wounded child. This did not bother her one bit.

Eventually, the two of them came to care quite a great deal for one another, felt a pull in their bodies in the dark and after one drink too many. Having both taken a few heavy blows in their lives, the two of them didn’t see the point in denying themselves the chance to take their fun when and where they could. And if fun was to be had with one another, that would do just fine. It was nothing serious, of course. A kiss in the darkened bar, wine on the deck of the Spearfish Shack, impulsively following one another home to the beach house or the library to spend a sleepless night touching one another in tender places. They had fun together, after all. But soon enough, they knew, in spite of themselves, that it was serious. Serious as war, serious as broken homes, serious as the conversations they couldn’t help but falling in to in the dark, when the release was over and the two of them lay, pleasantly empty. Serious, they realized, could be fun.

So it came to pass that, one beautiful day in early summer, Sabrina decided to have a very serious conversation.  
“Russell…”  
“…Hrm?”  
Russell had been staring lazily in to the distance, watching the water and contemplating lying down for a little nap in the sand. He loved it when Sabrina whisked him from the library and took him to the beach. He found the smell and feel of the sea air and the sound of the waves incredibly soothing. Mentally putting the nap off for a few more minutes, he waited for her to finish what she was saying.  
“It’s just that… We seem to enjoy each other’s company, don’t we?”  
“…You’re an observant woman, Sabrina.”  
She smiled.  
“You see, that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. You’ve got to be the driest man I’ve ever met, and I love that about you. And well… I really love everything else, too, you know that?”  
Sabrina leaned to rest her head on his shoulder. Russell smiled.  
“And I’m rather fond of you, too.”  
There was a long pause. Russell had figured the conversation was over, until Sabrina piped up again.  
“…Russell, I want to marry you.”  
The playfulness had left her voice. Sabrina normally spoke in a low, breathy, almost sensuously gentle tone. But the way she spoke that line was different, weighty and direct. Russell was somewhat stunned, and wasn’t sure how to respond.  
“I… You… Like, honestly?”  
“It’s not really something to lie about…”  
“I know, it’s just… What brought that up?”  
Sabrina sighed, and dropped her head in to Russell’s lap. The two of them listened to the waves for a few moments. For two people who had been suddenly dropped in to a serious discussion, they were strangely content.  
“Just that I like you a lot, you know?”  
“I know… I mean, I always assumed so, I guess. But didn’t you always say that we were just having fun?”  
“Russell, we’ve been ’having fun’ for over half a decade. I think it’s time to be honest with ourselves here. And come on, don’t you want to have fun with me for the rest of your life?”  
Sabrina whipped up in to a sitting position and lightly punched him in the arm. Russell cupped the now slightly sore spot with his hand, shooting her a playful mock-warning look before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  
“…Not if you keep hitting me.”  
Sabrina lightly tapped her fist against Russell’s arm one more time for good measure, and then softened, putting an arm around his shoulders and drawing him closer.  
“In all seriousness, though… Neither of us are getting any younger, and life has put us both through the ringer, hasn’t it? Don’t you think it’s time to just go with it and be happy?”  
Russell had, for a long time, assumed that he was happy. He had a child, a library, a lover, enough to pretend that things were almost normal. He had his setbacks and sleepless nights, but up until now, he had assumed that things were as good as they were going to get. Upon reflection, he realized that he did want what she was suggesting, terribly so. Going home to separate houses was almost like torture some nights, and he often found himself lying awake, longing for Sabrina’s gentle presence, her sunny and stormy aura that could dispel nightmares. And as much as he enjoyed the idea that they were keeping it light, just having fun, just passing the time with one another, he had begun to realize that this flighty relationship was only contributing to the detached, uprooted feeling that seemed to underline his post-war life. Russell wanted something that was solid and built to last.  
“Sabrina… I want to say it sounds nice. I really do. Because it does. But do you think it’s a good idea?”  
“I’m the one that brought it up, aren’t I?”  
“…Good point. I just want to be sure that we’re not making a mistake.”  
“Russell, it’s not like this is the worst mistake that two people can make.”  
“You’ve got me there.”  
He allowed himself to slide downward, head resting on her lap. They often found themselves swapping positions like this. Sabrina pushed a lock of hair away from his face.  
“…So, you’re in for this?”  
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”  
“Is that a yes?”  
Russell smiled.  
“Of course. I guess we’re going to have to tell the kids.”  
Sabrina sighed, and looked back up at the ocean.  
“In a while…”  
The two of them settled in to watch the waves.

~*~*~*~

Nicholas walked at a brisk pace, playfully waving a long, flexible stick that he had found along the side of the road. Cecilia calmly walked behind him, hands buried in the pockets of her dress, gently fidgeting with the aquamarines and seemingly deep in thought. He remembered that she used to run ahead of him, cheerfully yelling at him to keep up with her, climbing trees and scaling fences. Nicholas had been noticing a change in her over the last several years. She had become quieter, and more adverse to getting dirty. Her movements had gone from lively and boisterous to strangely, self-consciously poised. She was less fun, in a way, but that didn’t really bother him, because she was still Ceci, still his best friend. And as her appeal as a companion for exploring in caves and jumping in mud puddles decreased, another, more mysterious appeal, began to grow in its place. Her body had grown long and narrow, then rounded and graceful. Her hair had grown down past her shoulders, and she had taken to wearing it down, allowing the silky strands to fly free in the breeze, the sun scattering the soft orange color in to delicate hues of pink and gold, until it was tamed by a worried hand and carefully slipped behind a pale, pointed ear. Even the contrived almost-elegance of her movements seemed compelling to him. He thought Cecilia was beautiful. And besides, when she stopped keeping watch on herself for a moment, she still liked climbing trees and trudging through shallow streams.

The pair reached the mansion, climbed in to the window. Cecilia had been there countless times since it was vacated, but seeing the inside was somehow still thrilling to her, especially since she’d opened the master bedroom window the previous summer and forgotten to close it. The room was now crawling with vines, and the marble floors were littered with dead leaves that had been brought in by the wind. Once inside, Cecilia wanted to take in the beauty of the place, quietly admiring the golden sun streaming through the windows, cutting through the grey gloom of the interior. Nicholas, on the other hand, was wanting to bounce his voice off the ceiling.  
“I LOVE CECILIA!”  
Cecilia felt suddenly bashful, her cheeks burning red as the last two syllables of her name lingered in the air, “Ilia… Ilia… Ilia…” until they finally faded, having delivered their message. Nicholas took notice of her sudden silence.  
“What… You didn’t know that I love you?”  
He smiled playfully. Cecilia clutched at her skirt, cast her eyes downward and to the side.  
“Ah, no, it’s just… It was so loud, and…”  
“Well, it should be loud! Because I love you, Ceci! Remember? I love you, and I wanna marry you some day! I promised you when we were little, remember?”  
Cecilia, of course, remembered. But back then, it had just been an innocent, slightly embarrassing childhood game, or perhaps an astute observation of their limited options. But now, years later, with their taller bodies and burgeoning ideas of what love and marriage really were, it seemed different, made her feel shy. But she didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm, and, admittedly, liked the idea of him loving her, of marrying him one day. Still blushing, she called up a smile.  
“Of course I do! It’s just a shock to hear it so loudly is all…”  
Nicholas cupped his hands next to his mouth, and turned to the ceiling once again.  
“I LIKE BEING LOUD!”  
Oud… Oud… Oud… Cecilia laughed. Nicholas clattered his stick along the rungs of the banister. A silence had suddenly fallen between them, each quietly wondering what exactly they were going to do in here.  
“Hey Ceci, wanna check out the Vine Room?”  
The Vine Room was their name for the overgrown master bedroom, and it was one of Cecilia’s favorite places in the world. She nodded, and the two of them took off up the stairs, with Cecilia running in spite of herself.

There wasn’t much to do in the vine room, either, but it was the sort of place where one went for the scenery. Cecilia loved the way the sun spilled through the window, illuminating the green leaves from behind. Nicholas liked breaking off a few lengths of vine and sitting on the floor to braid them. They sat side by side in the warm puddle of sun in the middle of the floor, saying nothing, lost in their own thoughts, until Nicholas suddenly stopped braiding his vines, tied the ends of the braid together to form a hoop, and placed it on Cecilia’s head.  
“You’re Queen of the Elves!”  
Cecilia didn’t think she was much of a queen, but something about this gesture enchanted her. She liked the idea that the Queen of the Elves let her throne room become overgrown with vines, wore a crown of ivy. Flush with the recklessness of youth and good cheer, and grateful for her coronation, she leaned over to give Nicholas a peck on the cheek. He drew back, smiling warmly, and they sat looking in to one another’s eyes for a bit. Cecilia realized that their faces were drawing closer together. She hoped with all her heart that she was right about what was going to happen next, wondered if there was dirt on her clothes, if her hair was a mess, if she was pretty enough. She wondered if she should be the one to make it happen, but since she wasn’t sure that she was correct, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. Luckily, she didn’t have to wonder for long, because in the blink of an eye, Nicholas had leaned forward, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips.

Cecilia was happily stunned, as though she had fallen in to a wonderful dream. His lips were so soft against hers, his hand so warm as it brushed her cheek, her heart leaping excitedly as she realized that this was her real first kiss. Up until then, she had thought that her first kiss had been three years ago, on the day the beaches opened. She had been wading in the ocean, delighting in the warm sun and the lapping of waves around her small body, when suddenly Nicholas ran up to her, splashing was he went, handed her one of the most beautiful spiraling seashells she had ever seen, and gave her a light peck on the cheek. This was a surprise, and a very pleasant one, but she didn’t really feel anything besides startled and happy. The seashell went in to her treasure box, and she decided that from that day on, it would be the best thing she had ever put there. But this time? It was as though Nicholas had drawn up a part of her soul, one that had been sleeping since she was born. She willed herself back to reality, wrapped Nicholas in a big hug, and tousled his hair. She had touched his hair many times before, but she had never remembered it being this wonderful before. It was soft and smelled like the sea. Thankful that this moment had happened, they spent the next hour sitting in the fading, reddening sunbeam, enjoying one another’s company, and saying nothing, until Nicholas announced that he had to go home. Cecilia waited until she was sure he was down the street, well out of earshot, and then burst back in to the main room.  
“I LOVE NICHOLAS!”  
His name lingered in the air, just as she was sure she felt the impression of his lips lingering on hers.

~*~*~*~

Cecilia wandered home in a blur of joy. She loved Nicholas. She wanted to marry him. Once more, she felt like an innocent child, like back when they gave each other stones and flowers and promised to marry, wanting this thing so badly even though they knew little about it, other than that it would be forever and be with each other. She savored the weight of the ivy crown, of its rustle against her hair. She wanted to wear it forever, and if anyone asked why, she would just tell them that she was Queen of the Elves and smile. But not really, of course, for she knew that would be seen as foolish, and foolishness was something to be left in childhood. Then again, she had also heard that people were fools in love, and in that moment, she certainly felt as though she were head-over-heels in love, so she figured that she’d allow herself a desire to be foolish. Happily fiddling with the aquamarines in her pocket, she approached the library doorstep, and merrily swished inside.

Something was wrong. Her father was sitting behind the counter, as always, and Nicholas’ mother was with him. That in itself wasn’t unusual, because they did spend a lot of time together, and seemed to like each other quite a bit. The problem was that they seemed to have been waiting for her. A flurry of panicked thoughts rushed through her mind at once. Did they somehow find out about the magical moment in the Vine Room? That must have been it! Nicholas couldn’t keep his big mouth closed, and now she was going to have to listen to a speech about how they were too young for all of this nonsense, that they should leave it for when they were older, that there was plenty of time, no rush, and that they didn’t want her to do anything she might regret. Cecilia decided, rather defiantly, that there certainly wasn’t plenty of time. She didn’t want to wait until she was older and more sensible. She wanted to be a young girl who was a fool in love. An innocent child, a wild little ivy-crowned Elf queen who had bravely taken a human suitor. She stiffened her back, set her jaw, and internally dared them to challenge her. Russell and Sabrina glanced at one another, unsure of who should break the news. Sabrina cleared her throat.  
“Cecilia, honey… Your father and I have something to tell you…”

 


	3. Chapter 2: Like Brother and Sister

Chapter 2: Like Brother and Sister

Russell glanced back at Sabrina, wishing that she had just spat it out herself instead of throwing the ball back to him. Gathering his courage, he leaned forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the cool wood and clasping his hands in front of his chest. He imagined that it was a friendly, easygoing posture.  
“Cecilia… I’m sure you’ve noticed that Sabrina and I spend a lot of time together, right?”  
Cecilia nodded warily. Her father was speaking in soft, sickroom tones, and using her full name, but it didn’t seem like she was in trouble. Maybe something else was happening. Maybe Sabrina and Nicholas were moving away! And she wouldn’t be able to kiss Nicholas again for a very long time, perhaps even forever. But, she supposed, she could send him handwritten letters, sprayed with perfume and laden with pressed flowers, a notion that she found terribly romantic. Wondering how to continue, Russell gauged his daughter’s reaction, searching her face for clues. This yielded no answer for him, seeing as Cecilia had started daydreaming about her future in melancholy love-letter writing, and was no longer responding to the conversation itself.  
“Anyway… You know I’ve always felt kind of bad that you didn’t have a mom, remember? Well, I guess this wouldn’t exactly be like having a mom, since you didn’t grow up with her until now, but… The thing is, Cecilia…” He, admittedly, was stalling. “…Sabrina and I are getting married.”  
Cecilia’s day-dreamy face twisted in to a mask of quiet panic. She thought that her father was about to tell her that she was forbidden from romance, that she and Nicholas would have to start sneaking out in the night to kiss in the vine room, green behind the ears and careless, eager to taste the sweet fruits of youth and be fools in love, no matter what her stodgy father said. Or that she and her love were to be torn apart by fate, given the privilege to pine for one another and send weighty, overwrought letters back and forth across the sea. Either of these would have been so devastating, so painfully, horribly romantic. But Cecilia hadn’t been informed that the love she shared with Nicholas was scheduled to become star-crossed in the immediate future. She had, instead, been told that she had accidentally kissed her stepbrother, for goodness sake! A whimper leapt, unbidden, from her throat, cracking the frozen mask enough for her to speak.  
“…WHAT!?”  
Russell and Sabrina exchanged a worried glance. This wasn’t exactly the reply they had been expecting. Russell let out a quiet, obviously intentional cough, and continued helpfully.  
“Ceci… Sweetheart… I know it’s a big adjustment, but I think we’ll all be really happy this way.”  
Or at least, he thought he was being helpful. Cecilia was more flustered than before.  
“Big adjustment!? I’ll say it’s a big adjustment!”  
Russell and Sabrina looked at each other again. Sabrina shifted in her seat.  
“…I’ll just go upstairs and let the two of you work this out, mmm’kay?”  
With that, she padded up the creaky library stairs, leaving Russell alone with his stunned, furious daughter. His posture slackened, abandoning the contrived, friendly pose in favor of a more natural, if somewhat defeated one. Russell rubbed his forehead for a moment before daring to speak again.  
“Ceci, do you mind telling me what this is all about?”  
Cecilia paused for a moment, allowing herself to relax. Her father, after all, really didn’t know what it was all about. It wasn’t the idea of her father getting married that bothered her. It was what it meant for her and Nicholas. Even if her father might not like the idea of her discovering what love really was, he at least deserved to know why she had reacted the way she did.  
“Dad… Nicholas kissed… I kissed Nicholas today!”  
Well, that was a surprise. Though Russell supposed that honestly, it shouldn’t have been. The two children had always seemed very fond of one another, and, in fact, Russell didn’t mind that his daughter was beginning to act on the tender feeling she was assuredly having. A little puppy love is a part of growing up, after all, and Cecilia was a bright girl. He could trust her not to go too far. Mostly, he was glad to at least partially understand her outburst.  
“Oh, Ceci. Like I said… Big adjustment. Big, big adjustment…”  
For some reason she couldn’t quite understand, Cecilia’s embarrassed fury swelled again.  
“Yeah, well… Now I’m always going to have to be some creepy girl who’s first kiss was with her stepbrother! How am I supposed to adjust to this, dad!?”  
“Cecilia… It’s okay… You didn’t know.”  
“Not knowing doesn’t change things, dad. I… Look, I just want to be alone, okay?”  
“Ceci, it’s fine, let’s just…”  
Before Russell could say “talk about it,” Cecilia had stormed out of the library, slamming the door behind her. And with that loud, dreadful noise, Russell realized that he had finally entered the dreaded second stage of parenthood, the one where your formerly sweet little daughter started kissing boys, banging furiously around the house and slamming doors. And in this case, Russell feared, began insisting that he wasn’t her real father. He would just have to be strong, he told himself. Never mind that he wasn’t sure of how much strength he had left to give.

~*~*~*~

Still wearing her crown of ivy, Cecilia skulked angrily through the streets of the village, watching the lanterns springing to life. The Elf Queen has fallen, she thought to herself. She found herself savoring her anger and sadness. It felt deliciously self-righteous, and something about wandering the town feeling sorry for herself, as the sky turned dusky blue and the streetlamps flickered on in the darkness, held an appeal for her. This, she thought, was real life. Adults don’t pretend to be dragons, slide down mansion banisters, crown their loves with vines and share first kisses. Adults are sad and complicated and serious. They wander the streets at night thinking about life, and then go to the bar to get wobbly and stupid, because that’s the only way they can ever really be happy. In spite of herself, Cecilia remembered that, in truth, she didn’t want to be a sad adult yet. She wanted to be a fool in love, and now that was being taken away from her, all because a pair of confused grownups couldn’t stand being alone any longer. She loved her father, she really did, but in that moment, she hated him. Hated him for being so irresolute, so lonely and broken.

Over the past few years, Cecilia had gotten the idea that her father wasn’t the most stable person in the world. Sure, when she was small, she knew that her had been in a war, and that this had somehow made him very sad, but her was always there for her. Her protector, the great constant in her small life. But she had only just realized what that sadness really was, how deep it ran, how many things she had assumed were entirely unconnected found their roots in it. When she would sleep over with Nicholas as a small child and wake up in the night to ask for a glass of water, Sabrina would tell her to go to the kitchen, and then to please go back to sleep. Russell, on the other hand would hop right out of bed, fetch her water for her, and then ask if she wanted him to read her a story. She always nodded yes, and the two of them would lie down in her bed together, her father reading until he couldn’t anymore and drifted off to sleep still wearing his glasses. Cecilia, glad for the company, would bury her face in his warm shirt. These were their special times together, and though Cecilia still cherished those sweet memories, they had taken on a darker tone in her mind in recent times, as she realized that he probably needed the light and comfort more than she did. And then there was a conversation she had overheard the year before.

Apparently, not long after he moved in to the library, her father had been told by Dr. Edward that he was barely a fit parent, to say nothing of teetering unsteadily on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and that he had to get his act together or else he’d be committed somewhere until he could. Cecilia, of course, found this revelation very sad, and felt bad for her poor father, but she also found it annoying, in a way. If he couldn’t care for her properly, why not just hand her over to someone that could? At least long enough for him to go to a place where his mind would have a chance of mending properly, instead of leaving him to, rather hastily, patch it back together himself. But no, Russell had been determined to be there for Cecilia, come hell or high water, and if what it took to make that happen was to plaster on a smile and go through the motions day in and day out, then that was what he would do. She was grateful, of course, and knew that such an undertaking was a sign of a love so great that she could barely wrap her mind around it, but she still wondered if her father might have faired better if he’d known how to let go.

And now, forever in search of something that would, once and for all, fix him, her father was getting married. His inability to just get his act together was finally starting to mess with her life, her kingdom destroyed, her ivy crown slipping from her head. Had he even known why she was wearing it? He probably thought it was part of some silly game she had been playing. Her love, the thought with a huff, was not a game. And, though she did not know this at the time, neither was her father’s love a desperate attempt to save himself, like a drowning man grabbing for a branch. Marriage, for Russell, may have been part of his quest for stability, but the love was real. A deep, mysterious something, a something as deep and dark and heavy as the one he had carried with him during the war, but this time, it was sweet and restorative. A sharp mental sigh and gasp that reminded him that he was alive.

~*~*~*~ 

“Cecilia seemed a little upset, don’t you think?”  
Russell and Sabrina were resting in bed together, him having hastily written up a sign for the library door. Closed: family business in progress. We will be back tomorrow. Sabrina rolled on to her side, her face just inches from his.  
“Well, you can’t blame the kid, really. It was probably unexpected, and between you and me, I think she might be just a little sweet on my son.”  
“…That actually seems to be the problem. After you came up stairs, Ceci told me that she and your boy just had their first kiss.”  
Sabrina laughed. Russell had no idea what was supposed to be funny.  
“Well, it looks like she’s just going to have to adjust her thinking, then. Shouldn’t be too hard at her age.”  
Russell knew full well that steering one’s heart was a daunting task at any age. He felt a bit bad for his daughter, who had probably been drunk on the heady fragrance of young love right up until the moment he told her the news, and tried to imagine what a letdown this all must have been.  
“Should she have to, though? I mean… Do you still think we should go through with this?”  
“Russell, the kid is thirteen years old. She has plenty of time to fall in love again.”  
“And what? We have to hurry up and get married because we’re pushing forty and our time is almost up? Because I don’t think that’s a good reason…”  
Sabrina sat up in bed, leaning against the wall.”  
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”  
Russell pulled his body up to sit next to her, gently resting his head on her tanned shoulder.  
“Well, what are you saying, then?”  
“I’m saying… I’m saying that when you’re her age, you think you’re as deeply in love as anyone has ever been, but that’s just because you don’t know what love really is. Love at that age is just seashells and walks in the forests and little pecks on the cheek with some kid who might as well be your brother, you know?”  
Russell smiled wryly.  
“And that’s different from what we have… How?”  
Sabrina laughed softly.  
“Well, we’re grown-up and can actually appreciate it.”  
Laughing, the two lovers sank back in to the blankets. Sabrina placed a soft kiss on Russell’s neck, and he felt that wonderful heavy something in his chest lurch up from the waters of his being, like a fish. Cecilia had yet to learn that adults, too, could be fools in love.

~*~*~*~ 

Cecilia woke that morning in a sour mood. Sabrina had spent the night, and she wondered if her father knew that she could hear them over there. Hear their strange sounds, their shuffling in the blankets and happy voices, all the sounds of love. She wondered if he enjoyed it less because he knew that he had what she now could not. This resentment sat heavy in her body as she wrote in her diary, as she lay in her bed drifting to sleep. It was no wonder that she didn’t particularly want to see either of them in the morning, so she was delighted when she woke up before they did. She decided to go for a stroll and sit on the dock for a while, and that perhaps she’d be more willing to talk to her father, or even, heaven forbid, Sabrina, after she’d gotten some sun and fresh air. Being outside always lifted Cecilia’s mood, no matter how down she had been feeling. She wondered if it was because she was an elf. But only so much could be blamed on that, really.

When she got to the beach, Cecilia took off her shoes and sat down on the dock, hanging her bare feet over the water. She wished it would come up high enough for her to dip them, one of these days. But of course, it never did. Looking out at the water, she thought back to three years ago, to the seashell, and wondered if it would still be as precious to her now. Or perhaps even more so, now that it had become a representation of all that she would never, could never have. The fresh air, unfortunately, wasn’t helping. And she soon became aware that she wasn’t alone.  
“Hi!”  
Cecilia had been wrong. Russell and Sabrina weren’t the last people she wanted to talk to. It was Nicholas. Ever-oblivious, ever- boyish Nicholas, who couldn’t, it seemed, even manage a little seriousness after having learned that the love of his life was now his sister, for goodness’ sake. Cecilia frowned.  
“Seems like you’re in a good mood.”  
Nicholas sat down next to her on the dock.  
“Of course I am, silly! It’s a beautiful morning, and I’ve got a beautiful girl right next to me.”  
Cecilia winced. Perhaps Nicholas was just in a good mood because it plain didn’t matter to him whether or not they were related. Cecilia really wondered about boys, sometimes. Nicholas leaned in closer.  
“Now let’s do something about those morning blues of yours…”  
When Cecilia realized that he was, indeed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips, she was as mortified as she had ever been in her life.  
“…Nicholas, WHAT are you doing!?”  
The boy looked confused, and slightly hurt.  
“Trying to kiss you… Yesterday was so great, so I…”  
His mind was racing. Maybe he hadn’t done it right, or wasn’t very good at it, or perhaps Cecilia had some kind of invisible, mysterious girl problem with the whole thing.  
“But… Didn’t your mother tell you!?”  
Nicholas looked confused.  
“…Tell me what? She spent the night at the library, so I haven’t seen her yet today.”  
Poor Nicholas. Of course he thought nothing had changed. Cecilia remembered the gentle creaking of the mattress in the next room, the whisper of sweet nothings that she couldn’t understand, their secrets contained by the walls. Sabrina had probably been planning to tell him in the morning. Cecilia decided to take matters in to her own hands.  
“Nicholas… Our parents are getting married. So we can’t kiss anymore. Or, I guess we could, but it would be a little odd, and I don’t think it’s what I really want out of life, you know?”  
Nicholas, at first, was sure she had to be playing a prank on him.  
“…You’re joking, right?”  
“Unfortunately, no. They told me when I got home from the mansion. I came here as soon as I woke up because I’m mad at everyone.”  
Unsure of what to say, and a bit taken aback by the frankness of her last sentence, Nicholas sat staring out at the water. Certainly, this was a disappointment, and a terrible one. But surely one that Nicholas could recover from. He was used to family relationships forming, breaking, and changing, something that seemed to happen so quickly that it was hardly worth keeping up with. He knew that his mother had been briefly married to Neumann before he was born, and had, even more briefly, remarried him several years back. As for his real father… He had never seen him. Apparently, he had been a sailor who pulled up on shore, looking for a hot meal and a soft bed. Sabrina offered to feed and board him for free, he ended up staying for two weeks longer than he had intended, and that was that. Nicholas remembered that, when he was very little, his mother would still receive the occasional letter from her seafaring lover, but they had suddenly stopped a long time ago. That, Nicholas assumed, was the nature of life. The nature of love and family, transient and precious. And in this moment, indeed, he couldn’t see Cecilia as a lover, or even a sister. He could only see his oldest and dearest friend, who was terribly sad. Nicholas didn’t know how to make her feel better, but figured it would be worth a try.  
“Well, um… Our parents always used to say we were like brother and sister, didn’t they?”  
He offered a small laugh. Cecilia said nothing.

~*~*~*~

In her room that evening, Cecilia could think of nothing other than that terrible, terrible phrase. Like brother and sister. People had always said that about the two of them. Cecilia remembered loving it when she was little. It meant that they were close, close as two friends could ever be, and that was wonderful. Being close to Nicholas was one of the most important things in her life, as important as stones, as important as freedom to wander. And her desire for that closeness hadn’t changed, but, now that they were older, the meaning of that once innocent little phrase had. “Like brother and sister” felt like an unbridgeable gap. Brothers and sisters can’t get married. They don’t kiss in overgrown mansions, don’t do mysterious things in the dark. And if they do, people are appalled. She remembered accidentally overhearing Bianca as she whispered to Tabatha about some of the things that went on in certain branches of the de Sainte-Coquille family “… well, she MARRIED her BROTHER, you know…” Apparently, the two of them had a child, who had been sickly and died early in life. It seemed to be assumed that they deserved it, like a curse. Even the cousin marriages that were far from uncommon in the family were seen as somewhat unseemly, often blamed for the streak of insanity that cropped up in certain family members.

Feeling bereft, and somewhat disgusted at herself for the lingering feelings that she couldn’t help but carry in her heart, heavy as a lump of iron, Cecilia opened her treasure box, lazily rifling through its contents. Her best stones, scraps of notes and drawings, feathers, papery old four-leaf clovers, a favorite toy that had become too broken to play with, a ring that no longer fit. She shifted the contents of the box until she found her precious shell. It was beautiful, a shining opalescent white, the upward curve so graceful and perfect. Just looking at it made her think that she heard the sea, felt the cool, sparkling water rising around her. And she could almost see Nicholas from the past, so beautiful in the sunlight, running towards… No, not anymore. Nicholas was falling away from her. Clutching the shell so hard that the point at the top was digging in to her hand, somewhat painfully, Cecilia felt two streams of silent tears running across her cheeks. She almost enjoyed the feeling, enjoyed being alone with her loss and sadness. The knock at the door completely ruined the whole miserable, wonderful experience.  
“…You can’t come in!”  
Russell cracked the door anyway. His daughter looked like she had been crying, and was sitting on her bed, treasure box open beside her. Through her clasped hands, he thought he could see the iridescence of a shell, that little token from years before. Russell remembered thinking the whole thing was cute, certainly a memory for the two of them to cherish. But in that moment, her realized that, to Cecilia, it had probably meant a great deal more.  
“Alright, Ceci. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk, or…”  
She shook her head and turned to look out the window, or perhaps just away from him. He wasn’t sure which.  
“I don’t want to talk right now, dad.”  
Russell nodded.  
“That’s fine. I’ll be over in my room if you change your mind.”  
Reluctantly, he closed the door behind him. Russell wished he could sit on her bed and console her, the way that he used to when she was little and whining about something or other. A stone dropped down a sink drain, a pet grasshopper found dried and dead in the bug cage on a rainy morning, assorted little tragedies. He’d pat her on the head, get out her favorite book of funny poems, and in just minutes, she’d be laughing, ready for whatever small joy or fascination the next hour would bring. But he had to remind himself that, being nearly fourteen, it was natural for her to actually want to be sad and alone, sometimes. Russell himself had spent that year alternately perched in a tree with a heavy, rather morose philosophy book, scribbling furiously in a battered diary, or sitting on his bed, hugging his knees, wondering why his quiet, bookish ways were grounds for what he viewed as such savage ostracism. Besides, he thought to himself, she’s just playing. He saw the terrible sadness of adolescents and the rambunctious war games of children as being one and the same. A way to test the waters, to work out what life in the adult world might really be like. But they always left out the grimy, difficult parts, and once the game was over, it was over. Russell had seen enough of war and sadness to know the difference. They were not a game, were never really over. Cecilia would learn that in time. He picked up his book, and, with a sigh, sank in to his chair.

Cecilia may, indeed, have been just playing, but she did not yet realize it. As she sat on her bed with her treasure box, with her shell, all that she knew was that love had been ripped away from her, and in its place was something dreary and mockingly wholesome. Like brother and sister. She had felt for a long time that, in exchange for the unworried innocence of childhood, she was about to receive something else, something new and mysterious, perhaps just a bit frightening. And so she spent the past few years quivering with anticipation, sure that something would happen, some wonderful, painful, shining thing. When Nicholas crowned her with vines, kissed her in a golden sunbeam in an overgrown manor bedroom, she thought her something had come for her at last. But now, she thought bitterly, THIS is what I get. Feeling small and childish in her room, with her little treasures and stinging tears, she wondered if the thing for which she had been waiting was nothing more than growing older and sadder with each passing year, each passing loss. Unsure of what to do next, she got out her aquamarines, began lining them up on her quilt. She thought it would be nice to make them in to a necklace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah, at this point, you are beginning to see some patterns, aren’t you? Certain things do come up over and over again in this story… The seashell, the ivy crown, the aquamarines, “fool in love,” and so forth. Well, rest assure, you have not seen the last of them! ;) As for Russell’s troubles after he moved to Kardia, and Nicholas’ flighty sailor father… Well, they are to come up again as well! (Though only the former becomes a major plot point.)
> 
> We have also reached something of a turning point… Cecilia, I think, gets a bit annoying at times from here on in, but, well… She is a teenage girl, after all! I actually find it a bit difficult to strike the correct balance with her. I try to convey that her pain is real to her, and that her emotions in general are very genuine and heartfelt, but she can be a tad maudlin and haughty at times, so I also try to show the humor in that. Generally, I’m trying to write her as a sympathetic character, while still showing some of her words and actions as being unjustifiably harsh. (She… Is a bit rough on her father in coming chapters.) The following chapters will also show a bit more of Sabrina and Nicholas’ side of the story, so stay tuned!


End file.
